you can make a plan carve it into stone like a feather falling that is still unknown

until the clock speaks up says it’s time to go you can choose the high or the lower road

you might clench your fist you might fork your tongue as you curse or praise all the things you’ve done

and the faders move and the music dies as we p*ss over on the arc of time

so you’ll nurse your love like a wounded dove in the covered cage of night every star is crossed by phrenetic thoughts they separate and then collide and they twist like sheets ’til you fall asleep and they finally unwind it’s a black balloon, it’s a dream you’ll soon deny

i hear if you make friends with jesus christ you’ll get right up from that chalk outline

and then you’ll get dolled up and you’ll dress in white all to take your place in his chorus line

and then in you’ll come with those marching drums in a saintly compromise no more whiskey slurs no more blonde hair girls for your whole eternal life and you’ll do the dance that was ch*r*ographed at the very dawn of time singing “i told you son, the day would come, you would die, you die, you die, you die…”

to the deepest part of the human heart the fear of death expands ’til we crack the code, we’ve always known but could never understand on a circuit board we’ll soon be born again, again, again, again…